rrjuu o j 'J UU'J U jUUIAAAA. iAruwvvuv\^^ u vu w u u o wu \jvj\j\j u u'CVi' uu u
ONE OF THE REPORTERS OF THAT PAPER.
| DUBLIN:
W. LOWE, PRINTER, 6, LOWER ABBEY-STREET.
1846.
SM IN IRELAND.
M
LETTERS ON THE
OF THE
GERRARD TENANTRY.
A PORTION V WHICH APPEARED ORIGINALLY
" FREEMAN’S JOURNAL.”
LANDLORDISM IN IRELAND.
LETTERS ON THE EVICTION
OF THE
GERRARD TENANTRY.
A PORTION OF WHICH APPEARED ORIGINALLY
IN THE
“ FREEMAN’S JOURNAL.”
BY S. REDMOND,
ONE OF THE REPORTERS OF THAT PAPER.
DUBLIN :
W. LOWE, PRINTER, 6, LOWER ABBEY-STREET.
1846.
i
!
I;'u # Q5-2.&/X
Msiuaiistliis Prasaralson Project
-? v? 3 / Hf 7f
fzvTi
DEDICATION.
TO
THE TENANT FAEMEES OF IRELAND,
'E'ESEiJ {HUBEI! f! ©IF SIiOTF2II£{iJ E§5 3M2&E@Mni3©o
The object they were intended to accomplish was the ex-
posure of the grievances to which under the present law of
Landlord and Tenant in Ireland, the Tenant occupiers may
be subjected at the pleasure of their Landlords.
If the facts herein contained shall to any extent facilitate
the removal of the terrible evils herein exposed, then these
papers shall not have been written in vain, for then they
will have realised the best and sincerest wishes of the
gentlemen at whose instance they were undertaken as well
as of
MSI! WIES^HIEo
'
?'lf
.
: ■; - - ^
'
• ? ; ■ ::-n hi y ,v’
INTRODUCTION.
The greater portion of the statements contained
in the following Letters, have already appeared in
the columns of the Freeman’s Journal, from
whence they have been copied into every News-
paper in the Empire. The demands upon the
space of a daily publication, as well as other con-
siderations, rendered necessary the curtailment of
many details, and the omission of many others.
Those curtailments and omissions the writer has
now supplied. The letters are here presented
to the public just as the writer sketched them, with
the impressions of the hour freshly imprinted upon
his memory, and in the amplitude which at the
moment he deemed necessary to convey them.
Although therefore there is not any topic intro-
duced which has not already been produced in
the pages of the Journal with which the writer
has the honour to be connected, still it is hoped
that there is not wanting such further matter as
will tend to impart more firmness and interest to
the whole. Many over-kind friends have suggested
to the writer that these letters were worthy of a
more solid embodiment than the columns of any
VI
INTRODUCTION.
Journal, however popular and widely circulated,
could afford them. However he may have felt
flattered by such appreciation, fie would not have
attempted a separate publication of those commu-
nications, had he not had the assent and approba-
tion of the gentlemen to whose earnest patriotism
the country is indebted for the exposures they con-
tain ; nor would he be induced by any contempla-
tion of the eclat or emolument to himself to offer
this brochure to the public, did he not hope and
feel that he is thereby doing a good and acceptable
service to his country. Whatever may be the
value of the service which the succeeding dis-
closures of the spirit and the acts of Irish land-
lordism shall confer upon this country, and he
believes it is not easy to over-estimate them, the
Nation is indebted solely and exclusively to the
energy, the liberality, and the well-judging patriot-
ism of the Proprietors of the Freeman’s Journal ;
with whose views it is the proudest tribute to the
writer that he was chosen to co-operate.
LETTERS ON THE EVICTION
OF THE
GERE AED TENANTRY.
LETTER I.
Mount Bellew, county Galway, Wednesday
Night, 25th March, 1846.
The conduct of Mrs. Gerrard towards her tenantry in this
county, to which you were the first to direct metropolitan at-
tention, has not only excited deep and anxious interest through-
out this country, but through the United Kingdom. The oc-
casion on which you deemed it necessary to despatch me to this
part of the country is of such paramount importance, parti-
cularly so at this moment, as to render it well worthy of any
labour to set the facts properly before the public, however in-
adequate my humble ability may be to depict the scenes of
desolation which it has been my melancholy lot to witness. The
case is one of a truly painful character ; but exordium I shall
not use. My business is to state facts, as I have found them — to
tell the truth and nothing save the truth, as I myself have wit-
nessed it — truth corroborated by the most substantial and faith-
worthy evidence — derived, as you will perceive, from parties who
could not — who would not, be g;uilty of deceit or duplicity. / Be-
fore entering into a statement of, the details, I may here observe
that there has been a mistake in reference to the locality where
the scenes took place which I am about to lay — through your co-
lumns— before the public. It was generally conceived that the
theatre of this wholesale annihilation of human dwellings was si-
tuate in the county of Roscommon. That is incorrect. Still, the
mistake was natural, as no particular locale was mentioned, and
as the first intimation of the fact was conveyed to the public
through the Roscommon Journal . It is, however, situate in
the county of Galway, and within one mile of the town from
whence I now write. In order to particularise the spot (for it
is worthy of record), I shall describe the route from Roscom-
B
10
mo h thither, in order that the traveller or the curious may be
able to recognise hereafter, and point, not to “ the deserted,”
but ruined village of Ballinlass, “ where health and plenty
cheered the labouring swain,” but where ruin, wreck, and deso-
lation now reign triumphant, with all their sable and dreary
accessaries. Leaving Roscommon, you proceed, by the Galway
road, through a country almost entirely composed of bog. En
route you pass through a small but neat town, called Athleague,
thence to Mount-Talbot, the residence of Mr. Talbot, where you
cross the river Suck, which divides the counties of Roscommon
and Galway. The next place of any note is a pretty town called
Bailygar, seated on the brow of a hill, commanding a fine pros-
pect, from which considerable portions of the fertile commies
above mentioned may be viewed to much advantage You
thence proceed in a direct line to Ballinamore, a small village
on the bank of the river Sheeven, where the Hon. Mr. Ffrench
has a beautiful seat. Turning to the right, the road leads along
the river to a small place formerly called Newbridge, but lat-
terly known as Newtown- Gerrard, in honour of the proprietrix,
Mrs. Gerrard. This was at one period a populous place^but the
hand of the spoiler came, and the evidences of his progress are
unmistakeable, and are here in ample array presented to the
eye. To compensate for this destruction, Mrs. Gerrard has
erected a market-house, which is without merchandise, neither
buyer or seller ever appearing there, and the rusty iron trian-
gle, with mouldering beam and scales attached, spe^eloquently
of the neglected state of this “deserted village.” The lady also,
with a degree of carefulness not to be too hi^Sy estimated,
erected a large and very beautiful house, which she, in her
wisdom, deemed fit for the accommodation of twelve police-
men, but, after repeated applications to government for a force
to the above extent, she was refused, and the building stands
now a mere monument of the lady’s munificence of intention,
and, no doubt will, in future ages, prove as great puzzle to
the antiquary as the round towers of other days, or .the present
union workhouses. Mrs. Gerrard also erected here a half inn
half public house, which is kept by a person named Ginty, who
acts in the united capacities of steward, overseer, and inn-
keeper to her ladyship ; I am bound, however, to say that
he is generally considered to be a respectable, honest, and well-
meaning man. In view of this place there is a very elegant
lodge raised for the reception of Mrs. Gerrard, whenever she
11
visits that portion of her estates. And here I may remark, **
that her “ broad lands” cover a large tract of country, and* are JL /
valued at over 5,000/. a-year, on a moderate estimate. En ^
passant , her ladyship and her husband are accounted the rich- > w
est commoners in Connaught, some say in Ireland, — the Dub- ^ ^ ^
lin and Liverpool markets being largely supplied with
caj£le reared on this extensive estate. r*-
As the public mind is dwelling fixedly on this subject, it may
ri&Fbe inappropriate to state that Mrs. Gerrard possesses this
property in her own right, it having come into her possession
on the death of her brothers many years since. The maiden
name of this lady was Netterville, and as she has had no family,
her heirs presumptive are, I am given to understand, Mr. Cor-
bally, the member for Meath, and Lord Killeen, son of Lord
Fingal, whose mother is half-sister to Mrs. Gerrard. Mr. and
Mrs. Gerrard reside at a place called Gibbstown, in the county
of Meath ; the former is said to be in his 80th year, and the
latter some ten years his junior. It has been stated in an
evening cotemporary that they are Catholics — this is a gross
error. /But let us proceed to the scene of ruin. Leaving New-
town-Gerrard, you pass along to the left of the river Sheeven.
On the road to Mount-Bellew, and about a mile from that
pretty little town, the first sight of the recent scene of desola-
tion presents itself to view. The doomed village of Ballin-
lass, parish of Kilascobe, and barony of Killy on, county of
Galway, was situate here, and was built on the confines of
a bog, which, in a great measure, had been reclaimed by
the tenants ; the land, particularly at the rere of where the
houses once stood, presenting an appearance of high cultivation,
which was produced by the patient and hard industry of the
tenants, who are now scattered over the face of the country,
without a shelter for their weary and time-worn limbs, save
that supplied by the broad canopy of heaven, and the charity
of a fe^poor people in the neighbourhood and in Mount
Bellew. I now come to the task, which of all others I feel my
incapability of doing justice to, or even conveying a faint out-
line of— namely, a description of the scene of ruin which pre.
sents itself to the view of the astonished beholder. The ap-
proach to the village was by a kind of road or togher , as it is
called, along the left of which were heretofore a few scattered
houses. About a quarter of a mile from the main road the
houses were clustered together in groups of three or four, and
12
so continued at short distance apart; they were in number 61,
as the return below will show you. Not one of those habita-
tions is now standing save one, and you will presently see the
reason that this solitary dwelling is still permitted to remain.
I went through, or I should rather say walked over, the ruins
of all, and from what I saw and heard I concluded that they
were all comfortable, clean, and neatly kept habitations, with
snug kitchen gardens either before or behind them. In cor-
roboration of this I have had the evidence of Mr. Mathew
Donovan, of Ballygar, by whom I was accompanied, and who
rendered me every assistance, and afforded me most important
information on this inquiry, and of whose merits, as a true
patriot, friend, and adviser of the people on this trying occasion,
I cannot speak in terms of sufficient praise. Mr. Donovan has
permitted me to mention his name, and should his evidence be
required he is willing to present himself for examination
before any tribunal, as he was an eye-witness of the facts
which I shall detail. /TL may as well mention here that two
other gentlemen, whose names you will find farther on,
have given me similar permission, i. e ., to say tha^ they
are prepared to corroborate the facts which I detail. /On ap-
proaching the entrance to the village the first thing tW met
my eye was some manure, or dung, which had been carried away
by the wretched people from their houses and thrown on the
side of the road, in order to prevent it from becoming the pro-
perty of the landlady after the tenants were evicted. Mr.
Donovan, who witnessed the scene which took place on Friday,
the 13th March, 1846, describes it as the most appalling he
had ever witnessed — women, young and old, running wildly to
and fro with small portions of their property, in order to save
it from the wreck — the screaming of the children, and wild
wailings of the mothers driven from home and shelter —
their peaceful homes, hallowed by a thousand fond recollec-
tions— all combined to form a picture of human misery, such
as the darkest imagination alone could conceive. At an early
hour on the morning of Friday, the 13th instant, the
sheriff, accompanied by a large force of the 49th regiment, com-
manded by Captain Brown, and also by a heavy body of police,
under the command of Mr. Cummings, proceeded to the place
marked out for destruction. The people were then, according
to the process of law (I could not procure a copy of the habere ,)
called on to render possession, and forthwith the bailiffs of
13
Mrs. Gerrard commenced the work of demolition. In the first
instance the roofs and portions of the walls were only thrown
down ; the former in most instances lie on the side of the road,
on the manure already alluded to^It was stated in the original
account, ^published in the Roscommon Journal , that a child had
been killed by the falling of a beam, as the bailiff would not
wait until the boy came out of the house, but I am happy to
inform you that this is a mistake. The boy was certainly
hurt, but not severely, and it appears he was son to one of the
bailiffs, not to a tenant, and that the transaction was purely
accidental. It was also mentioned that a sick man had been
thrown out on the fields. This is partly incorrect, the facts
being as follows : — -A man and woman, who lay ill of fever,
were permitted to remain in a house into which they were
carried, after possession of it had been taken, and this is the soli*
tary house remaining, and to which I have already alluded ; but
they have since been served with notice to leave the place with-
imfifteen days or the house would be tumbled on top of them!
This information was given me by a man on the road, in pre-
sence of upwards of 100 men and women, who all stated that
it was a fact, the man adding “ I don’t think, sir, the poor crea-
tures unll be there then, for I heard the people who are attend-
ing them say they are dying, and you know removing them in
the fever was enough to bring that about.” After this neces-
sary digression, I shall proceed, step by step, as I now come to
the most painful, but most important portion of the mission
with which you have honoured me. Mr. Donovan and myself
walked through the ruins of every house, and counted them to
the number you have above. Great pains must have been
taken to demolish the houses, as the walls were very thick,
and composed of an umber clay, and when the inside turned
up good plaster and whitewash always appeared. Not content
with throwing down the roofs and walls, the very foundations
have been razed ; and here I must explain what a moment ago
I stated, namely that only a portion of the walls was pulled
down in the first instance. That is true, but on the night
of Friday the wretched creatures pitched a few poles slantwise
against the walls, covering them with the thatch in order to
procure shelter for the night ; but when this was perceived
next day, the bailiffs were dispatched with orders to pull down
all the walls and root up the foundations in order to prevent the
4t wretches” (this it appears is a favourite term applied to these
b 2
14
poor people) from daring to take shelter amid the ruins.
When this last act had been perpetrated, the ‘‘wretches’*
took to the ditches on the high road, where they slept in parties
of from ten to fifteen each, huddled together before a fire for
the two succeeding nights. I saw the marks of the fires in the
ditches ; every body can see them, and the temporary shelter
which the “ wretches” (I can’t help quoting the word so often)
endeavoured to raise round them — these, with the sticks res-
cued from their recent dwellings, the thatch and the dung
remain there as evidence of the truth of my statement. It
was a melancholy sight — but more particularly so, amongst
the ruins. Here a broken chair, there a smashed pot, crockery-
ware, remnants of old dressers, boxes, and tables, together
with broken farming implements, and a hundred other articles
belonging to husbandry and household purposes, lay about the
gardens of the houses (that had been), or the fields adjoining.
Having satisfied myself as to facts, I returned to the road,
through the fields which lie to the south of the village, and
which formed a portion of the farms attached. As I before
stated, the land is very good, but I am told it was the people
who made it so. The whole extent of ground connected with
the village is over 400 acres. It may be some acres more or
less ; but I believe from the best information that this will be
found about the number of acres which Mrs. Gerrard has re-
covered, and over which her fat bullocks may now roam with-
out a solitary hut to intercept them. I turned away, almost
sick at what I had seen, and reached the road, where I found
a large number of people, both male and female, collected
about our driver, who remained with the vehicle. They all
flocked around us on our return, ajnjL oneyery intelligent v^ung /•
man addressed us as follows : — Ljj
Well, gentlemen, did you ever see the like of that before?
Never (I replied) ; and I hope I never shall again.
Then, sir, you don’t intend to stop long in this part of the
county Galway ; for if you did, you’d soon see these two villages
(pointing to two villages, as he spoke, that lay about a mile
and a-half, or two miles off, in an easterly direction) in the
same way.
Who is the proprietor of those? Mrs. Gerrard, sir, and
she has served one of them with the notices, and the other is
warned to be ready.
Whose tenant are you ? Mr. Cheevers’, sir, long life to him,
that never turned out a poor man or a widow woman ; but
15
if any of his people were troubled with hardship or distress,
he’s the one himself, and his lady that would come and relieve
them.
Who is Mr. Cheevers, and where does he live ? Down there,
sir ; his land runs along the river until you come to the clear-
ing of Mrs. Gerrards’ land.
Well, were you here when the houses were thrown down. In
throth I was, your honour, and I never saw the like of it.
Well, tell us something about it? Well, sir, when the
Peelers and soldiers came, the sheriff and the bailiffs turned
oat the creatures ; and then, such bawling and screaming of
women, children, and old men, I never heard. Why, sir, it
would melt the heart of a stone to hear them, and throth the
very dogs howled and cried, for you’d think the brutes knew
what it was all about ; and they howled away until the houses
were all down, and one of them stopped howling and harking
at his master s door for several days after , and wouldn’t leave
it for any one . &
My friend, Mr. Donovan, who heard the poor fellow’s simple,
but to me touching narrative, corroborated him in every word
he said, and you shall have further proof of it hereafter. The
man went on — “Well sir, that wasn’t all — some of the walls
were left standing, and when the night came they threw up a
few kippeens of sticks to shelter themselves from the cold, but
the next day she — well, God forgive her after all — she , it is said
ordered her bailiffs to root up the foundations to prevent the
wretches — it’s wretches, sir, they were called — of going
there any more.”
That was rather severe, I observed.
“ Oh,” but sir, said the man, with a degree of horror depicted
in his face, “that isn’t all, for she sent orders to all her
tenants not to let one of them in, or if they did she would serve
them the same way — at least such orders were given in her
name ”
I said, I don’t believe that, my good friend.
Don’t you, sir, said the man? No, I replied.
Faith and I could bring you at least to one person that was
warned at all events. I will not credit the story otherwise,
said I.
It is very currently reported, said Mr. Donovan, and is
believed to be true.
Who gave the notice to the tenants, I inquired of the man v
Why, the bailiffs, sir.
16
Could you show me any person to whom such a notice was
given either in words, or in writing? Oh ! Sir, it was not in
writing, the bailiffs only called and told the people.
Then let me see any one that the bailiff called on. There’s
a woman down here below on the road, and if your honour
Cfiipes down, she will tell you alkabout it.
j We went down accordingly, b'ut the woman was at the
irr^k^ofM^unt Bellew. There was a boy there about nine
or fen years of age, who told us that one of the bailiffs told his
mammy not to take in any of the people who were turned out,
but his mammy let in an old woman after that. I would not
have placed much reliance on this corroboration, except for
what you will learn somewhat further on. It is to be hoped,
for the sake of humanity, and of womanhood, that Mrs.
Gerrard is ignorant of this order. *T\ffter some further conver-
sation with the people, which you wiffTind embodied in the gene-
ral details, we proceeded towards Mount Bellew, and at every
step'new heaps of dung, sticks, diseased potatoes, with the general
things mentioned as about the ruins, which had been carried
away and deposited on the road side, met our eyes. There
were several houses levelled along the road ; but as I have com-
puted them amongst the total number, and as they presented
the same mournful appearance, what I have said of the village
applies to these detached houses. This day being market-day
in Mount Bellew, the people on their return from the market
collected in large numbers to view the desolation. After passing
the last of those now mouldering dwellings, we came to a sharp
hill; the western ditch was well secured by a fine thorn hedge,
which afforded us ample shelter from a heavy sleet shower
which set in at the time. We were joined shortly after by large
crowds who were circumstanced as we were.' The people all
seemed to know Mr. Donovan, and as each person came up
they took off their hats to him and myself. We told them not
to do so, but still they persisted. We entered into conversation
with them, of course on the subject of the eviction, but before I
detail what took place here, permit me to say, that although I
have often regretted that I was ignorant of the Irish language, I
never really felt the want of it until yesterday ; and, although
I could not understand it, yet it drew tears from my eyes to
hear the energy and earnestness with which the poor creatures
spoke in the expressive language of their native land when
addressing Mr. Donovan (who, fortunately, is arv excellent
Irish scholar, and speaks the language with great fluency) and
17
myself, and this, coupled with their natural energetic manner,
could not fail to leave a deep and lasting impression. We were
surrounded at this time by not less than a couple of hundred
persons, one of whom coming up to Mr. Donovan, said in
Irish — “Oh, Mr. Donovan, jew£l, you see they have not left
us a house on the side of the road fy shelter us from the showgju
Godjforgive them.” ff LfytLjLv/ f
Are you one of the persons who was turned out ? No, sir,
buTI was looking at them, and I knew all the people ; and
Mr. Donovan, jewel, if you only saw the way they pulled down
the places. Why, they rushed at them like an army after a
battle, into a town to plunder and burn it.
This sentence was given with a degree of melancholy pathos,
and also an action suited to the words that must have touched
the most heartless. Up to this time I had not met with any
person who had resided in the village, although I inquired
anxiously for some of them. Where are they gone to, I
enquired of an intelligent man with whom I was in conversa-
tion. Why, sir, some of them are gone to the hospitals, as they
got sickness out of the ditches, others are begging through the
country ; some of them are in the neighbours’ houses, more of
of them in Mount Bellew, and some of them who had a trifle
of money, are gone off to America. I expressed a wish to be
directed where I could meet some of the poor people, when the
man said, “ Oh, here is one of them coming down the hill.”
This person, who soon joined us, was old, and as he raised his
hat to salute me, his long white hair floated on the breeze.
He was an athletic handsome old man, with a mournful coun-
tenance, and as he addressed me in the beautiful and simple
language so well known amongst the country people — “ God
save you, Sir,” (he spoke English very well), I felt a reve-
rence for the old, ill-treated, and unhappy man.
Are you one of the people who were recently turned out ?
I enquired. Indeed I am, sir, said he, with a heavy sigh.
How old are you, sir? Nearly eighty.
How long did you reside in the village of Ballinlass ?
Over sixty-eight years, sir, said he, and burst into tears.
How many in family have you ?
Three, together with myself, but I had a great deal more
than that% Some of them are dead and gone, and well for
them they didn’t live to see this desolate day ; others of them
are married, and some more are gone to America.
18
How much land had you? Why, I can’t rightly tell, as
there were no regular farms, but there was over 400 acres
belonging to the village.
Did you owe any rent ? I did, sir.
Were you able to pay it? I was, sir, and willing too, but
she wouldn’t take it for the last five half years.
Why so ? Why, because, sir, she wanted to throw down the
houses to make bullock pastures.
Did you ever offer the rent to the lady ? I did, sir, more
than twenty times, and I offered it to her agent also, but they
would not take it. We went to the hall-door (meaning the
hall- door of the lodge already mentioned) often with the rent,
but they wouldn’t take it from us. Every man in the village
but one offered the rent over and over, but they wouldn’t take
it, and we offered to pay that man’s rent, but they wouldn’t
take that either.
Is it true that the remainder of the walls were ordered to be
thrown down to prevent the people from sheltering themselves
at night ? In troth it is, sir : they wouldn’t let any one go
near the place ; we slept in the ditches for two nights, and I
got pains in my poor old bones after it.
Did the women sleep in the ditches ? They did, sir, and I
saw one of the women with a child at her breast hunted by the
bailiffs from three places the night after they threw down the
houses, when we were under the walls, and they came to put out
the fires, and they put out the fires in the road ditches on us too.
Good God ! I exclaimed, turning to Mr. Donovan, can this
old man be telling truth ?
He is telling truth so far as he goes, but he could not tell
you half the truth. Part of what he states to you I have wit-
nessed myself, and there are hundreds here who can swear to
every word of it.
I am an old man now, said poor Rock, for that was the name
of my venerable acquaintance, Mr. Donovan knows me well,
and God knows I have not long to live ; I am telling you the
truth, sir, and to my knowing or knowledge, I never told a lie
in my life, and it’s too late for me to begin now. This was
uttered with a degree of earnest fervour and honesty that could
not be mistaken or disbelieved.
I shall now close this letter by sending you a list of the
families, with the number in each, who were dispossessed on
this occasion.
Names of Families ejected from the Village of Ballinlass , on the
13 th of March , 1846: —
Luke Gavin, 8; Patrick Mantron, 5 ; Tom Gavin,* 4; Pat
Gavin, 6; Bryan Connor, 6; Andy Pinerty, 3; John Conlan,
6 ; Murray, 4 ; Thady Kilmartin, 8 ; Pat Neil, 9 ; Thady
Bock, 4 ; Patrick Morris, 5 ; Laurence Bock, 5 ; Michael
Bock, 5; Pat Gavin, 4; Michael Gavin, 4; John Dillon, 6;
Widow Gavin, 5 ; John Flaherty, 4 ; Pat Conroy, 5 ; Larry
Crehan, 6 ; Thomas Tansey, 4 ; Widow Kenny, 3 ; James
Monaghan, 4 ; Mark Loftus, 3 ; Mathew Bryan, 6 ; Thady
Gavin, 1 ; Thomas Gavin, 2 ; Thomas Gavin, 3 ; Michael
Cheevers, 7 ; PatBogerscn, 6 ; Pat Higgins, 6 ; Pat Gibbons, 1 ;
Patrick Driscol, 6 ; Thomas Kelly, 3 ; Billy Discon, 4 ; John
Norton, 1 ; Michael Clarke, 5 ; James Gavin, 6; Widow Daly,
3 ; Laurence Kilmartin, 7 ; Mark Gavin, 3 ; John Gavin, 3 ;
Widow O’Hara, 4 ; Widow Discon, 5 ; Billy Geoghegan, 2 ;
John Walsh, 2 ; Ned Smyth, 5 ; Boger Forcy, 5 ; Thomas
Norton, 1 ; Thady Conlan, 7 ; John Manahan, 8 ; Michael
Mulrey, 4 ; Pat Flymings, 3 ; James Hegan, 2 ; Widow Crog-
han, 4 ; Widow Murray, 3 ; Widow Kenney, 4 ; John Cal-
laghan, 2 ; Pat Morissy, 4 ; James Egan, 5. Total families,
61. Total persons, 270.
You will at once perceive from this letter that I have gone
on by stages in order to elicit facts, and every word contained
in my present communication you may rely on.
LETTEB II.
Ballinamore, county Galway, Friday night,
27th March, 1846.
I this day, in company with three other gentlemen, paid a
second visit to Ballinlass, the result of which has more than
confirmed every statement made to me. But I must refer you
to my next letter for details of this second visit, as I wish to
proceed in the order in which my information was obtained. I
may here remark that the case has created the greatest excite-
ment in Galway and Boscommon, and that even amongst the
* The Gavins were very numerous here, but although there are several of
the same name, they each composed separate families.
20
gentry and landlords it is deemed “ too bad but on this point
I shall have something to say hereafter.
I resume my conversation with the old man Bock, where I had
left off. I enquired of him “what will you do now ?” “ God
only knows, sir, for I do not ; I have been turned out in my
old days, and I don’t know where to go.”
Having concluded this conversation, and turning our back
upon the ruined village, I returned to Mount Bellew, and, on
arriving there along with Mr. Donovan, we were at once ac-
costed by seven or eight of the people who had been dispos-
sessed. They approached us with tears in their eyes. The
poor fellows looked very sad, and the women, many of whom
carried children in their arms, grouped around us as if we
could have restored them to their once peaceful homes. It was
a scene of deep melancholy ; several of the poor men were
questioned, and all told the same story that I have already
written. They repeated that they had offered the rent for their
holdings, but that it was refused. They described the pulling
down of the houses, &c. Here I met a gentleman (amongst
others) whose name I send you in confidence, to be used here-
after, if necessary. He said you ought to be cautious how you
take down what these persons say. I am a friend of huma-
nity, and I feel very much for the poor people, as I know they
have been treated very harshly, for they offered to pay their
rent, and, on equitable principles, ought not to have been
turned out, but of course they will tell you one side of the
story only.
Do you know anything about the facts, I asked — if so, you will
oblige me by stating what has comes within your knowledge?
Why I know the people have been turned out, at the same
time that they offered the rent that was due ; some of them
are in comfortable circumstances, and are able to procure places,
as they possess the means ; others are wretchedly poor, and
must go to the workhouse, if the neighbours do not support
them ; I know that some of them will be obliged to beg, and
are doing so already, but you ought to take down the two sides
of the question. I informed him that that was my duty, and
would feel thankful to him for stating any fact, assuring him
that I would record all I heard on either side. I then asked
him would the poorer portion of the people, whom he said
would be compelled to resort to the workhouses, or beg for
their bread, would they have been so circumstanced if they were
21
permitted to remain in their humble habitations ? His answer
was, “ I don’t think they would, as their neighbours would
have given them assistance, and helped to pay the rent for them. ”
Then, would it not not have been better to let them remain
where they were ? Iam not prepared to say.
Why ? Why on the principle that a person can do as one
pleases with one’s own property.
That is good in law, though it may not always be humane or
or equitable.
Were these poor people given or offered any compensation ?
Yes, they were forgiven what rent they owed.
But they offered to pay it, according to their own relation,
and all they wanted was to remain in possession of their places ?
Oh ! I believe so. But some of them are very comfortable,
and I would advise you not to believe all they tell you.
Some of those ejected have informed me that orders were
given to other tenants not to allow them into their houses, nor
to afford them any relief ; do you think that is correct ? I
have heard such a story, but I don’t believe it, as I don’t think
any person could be so hard-hearted as to give such instruc-
tions.
I then entered the house of Mr. Tully, who keeps an inn,
attached to a grocery establishment, where several of the evicted
persons followed me. They formed a circle round me, each
man taking off his hat, and the women almost knelt to us. I
don’t know what they imagined was the purpose of my visit,
but they looked to Mr. Donovan and myself in the most piteous
manner, and asked did we think that they would be allowed to
go back and build their houses ? Mr. Donovan told them that
we could not afford them any relief, but if they had anything
to say that I would record it. Here we were joined by Mr.
Tully, the owner of the house, the gentleman above alluded to,
Mr. Kennedy, and Head-constable Dennehy, who is stationed
at Mount-Bellew, and who has charge of that district.
Mr. Donovan asked Mr. Dennehy if he were present at the
eviction on Friday, the 13th March ? The officer replied he
was ; and added, “ I never in the course of my experience saw
such a horrible sight.” Then, turning to me, he said, “Why,
sir, it would make the hair of your head stand on end ; and, if
you had the heart of a stone, not to speak of that of a man, it
would melt it. But you know I was there to do my duty.”
He then entered into a detail of the facts which I have already
c
22
given, and added — “ It was stated that Mrs. Gerrard turned
out only about four hundred people ; why, of my own know-
ledge, I should say I think she has, within the last three years
and a half, turned out more than FOUR THOUSAND !”
“May I advance your authority for that, sir?” I asked.
“You may make the statement on my authority,” was the
answer.
“Well,” said I, “Mr. Donovan, you hear what this officer
says ?” “ I do,” said my friend.
“ And you may use it any way you please,” said the con-
stable, 4 4 and give me as your author ; and when I say FOUR
THOUSAND I think I am under the mark. I declare to God,
sir, I never saw such a sight as it was. The very dogs barked
and howled at us ;” and this public officer then confirmed the
story about the dog, which I have already given, and said he
saw it himself.
I repeated to him, in the presnce of Mr. Donovan, that I
would make use of what he said, and he again assured me I
might do so on his authority. He then on went to describe the
harrowing scene he had witnessed on the morning of the 13th.
The women and children, he said, ran out of the houses half
dressed, and their frantic screams, as they gathered up some
bit of clothing or furniture, was beyond all description terrifi-
cally painful. Some were to be seen running off with the sticks
that formed portions of the house roofs, and more of them, in
their bare feet, were helping the men to carry off the dung in
baskets on their backs and heads to the road side. Some of
them clung with wild tenacity to the door-posts from whence
they were dragged by the bailiffs, and those who could not be
got away ran a great risk of their lives by the tumbling down
of the roofs and walls, and many had very narrow escapes. I
was also informed by a person who said he saw one of the eject-
ments, that Lord Killeen’s name was in the process as a party.
The head constable of police, Mr. Dennehy, then proceed-
ed to say : — I speak in presence of Mr. Donovan, Mr. Tully,
and other gentlemen, and I have to say that I never knew a
more peaceable, quiet, or orderly people than those who lived
in that village. I never had a summons or complaint of any
kind against a man of them ; they were never charged with
any crime ; there never was a breach of the peace or any other
charge made against them ; and they were the honestest, most
industrious, and best behaved people of their class I ever knew.
23
They were extremely sober, and it was a cruel thing to sepa-
rate them ; I never had a warrant out against one of them, and
I don’t think there were a more respectable set of people in
this country.
Mr. Tully corroborated every word spoken by Head-consta-
ble Dennehy, and said he knew the place since he was a
child, and he never knew a charge of any kind brought against
one of the people. He could say with truth that there was not
in Ireland better tenants than they were, but although some of
them had small means left, he was sorry, very sorry, to say
that others of them would never again see a house of their own
over their heads, particularly the widows and orphans.
I then asked Mr , the gentleman whose name I send you,
if he had anything to say ? and his reply was, No sir, but don’t
believe all you hear.
Head- constable Dennehy said — Mr. , are we not tel-
ling truth ? Mr. said — I don’t know ; and again addres-
sing me, said, dont credit all you hear — hear the other side
also.
I shall put down all I hear on either side — that is my busi-
ness here, and if you or any other gentleman has anything to
say, I assure you I shall take it down most willingly.
We are all here in presence of Mr. (meaning myself),
said Mr. Kennedy, and now is the time for us to tell him all.
We know that he will take it down. Have you any thing to
say ? I repeated the question put by Mr. Kennedy, to Mr
He said — I have nothing to say, but dont believe all you hear,
as, perhaps, it’s not so bad after all. He then bid us good
bye, and went away.
I then, in presence of Head-constable Dennehy, Mr, Tully,
Mr. Donovan, ‘Mr. Kennedy, and another gentleman, asked
some of the evicted people what they had to say ? The spokes-
man of the party, who appeared a respectable man, named
Gavin, and who spoke English very well, said he would tell
me the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
If you tell any thing else, said Mr. Dennehy, to this gentle-
man, I will contradict you, so mind what you say. I never
told a lie in my life to my knowing or knowledge said Gavin,
and I am not going to tell one now to the gentleman, before
you and the other gentlemen. He then gave me the list of the
families, and the number of persons who were turned out (I
have already forwarded that list to you), and asked Mr.
24
Dennehy if it were not quite correct. The officer replied it was,
he believed, quite correct.
Gavin then entered into the details (which I have already
noted) and said, sir, is not that all true. The head-constable
replied it was all true.
I asked if orders had been given to other tenants on the
estate not to allow the poor people into their houses for
shelter? Gavin — It is true, sir, and I was refused to be let
into one tenant’s house, and I came here and took a lodging.
The gentlemen present said they had all heard the story.
Is it true that the other tenants were told not to give any
relief to the poor people ? Gavin — It is, sir ; and one of the
widows was refused a few potatoes, but it wasn’t their hearts
that made them do that, but the fear.
Tell me the names of the tenants who refused. Why, I will
if you like, sir, but it might bring them into trouble.
But here, in order to save post, I must conclude.
LETTER III.
Ballinamore, County Galway,
27th March, 1846.
SECOND VISIT TO THE DESTROYED VILLAGE OF BALLINLASS.
Before entering into a history of yesterday’s visit to that
locality, I must finish my notes taken at Mount Bellew, the
preceding part of which I forwarded to you last night. Per-
haps the result of my inquiry here may be summed up in the
following most emphatic sentence of Mr. Tully, whose name,
and the observations made by him, are already before you.
He said — “ Sir, the parish chapel (meaning the parish in which
the village was situate), which used to be crowded, and where
you could not stir on a Sunday by reason of the numbers, is
now so deserted that you might make a ball-room of it ; for
since the people were turned out, it is all but empty. The
poor people who used to attend there have been swept away,
root and branch, and they are now scattered about in all direc-
tions.” After a great deal of general conversation on the
subject, I left Mount Bellew in company with my friend. On
the road towards Ballygar we overtook a gentleman, whose
name I send you. He is a professional man, and, as he told
me himself, a near relative of Mrs. Gerrard. I was fortunate
in meeting him, for I consider his evidence very important, at
25
the same time that it was given freely and without prejudice.
He asked if I had witnessed the scene of destruction at Ballin-
lass ? I replied in the affirmative.
Did you ever see anything so frightful? he again asked.
Never.
Well, and do you see these two villages over there ? Yes.
They are under orders to quit, and the notices are actually
served on the inhabitants of one of them already. You may
give that on my authority. I don’t wish to speak harshly of a
lady, and she my own relation, but I can’t help saying, that
she is the greatest exterminator of tenantry in the county —
perhaps in Ireland, and it is not now she has commenced it —
she is at it more than twenty years. I will show you, along
the road here, for the next six miles, up to where her land
joins my father’s, where she has turned out hundreds — aye,
thousands of people for the last twenty years, and, as you will
perceive, turned the places into bullock pastures.
We proceeded along the road, and at every step he gave me
ample testimony of what he had stated. The land appears to
be very fine, and was covered with immense herds of bullocks.
The gentleman communicated many facts to me ; but I think
it right to confine myself to the recent affair, as that was, I
believe, your object in sending me down. I have given the
facts as I found them, coupled with the authority, and it will
be for the public to draw their conclusions. Of course, I heard
a great many stories about harsh and cruel treatment, but you
will find I have not noticed them, except on the most indis-
putable evidence. I now pass over a variety of matter, and
come at once to my
SECOND VISIT TO THE SCENE OF DESTRUCTION,
And, after reading the facts, let them speak trumpet-tongued
to the world of the desolation that reigns here. Early on
Thursday morning, by appointment, I met Mr. Tully, of the
Roscommon Journal , Mr. P. Ryan, of the Victoria Hotel, Ros-
common, and Mr. Donovan, of Ballygar, and we proceeded at
once to the place. Mr. Ryan, who is an eminent engineer
and surveyor, came from Roscommon (18 miles) specially
to make a map of the place, which he has done. The first
object that caught our eyes was the poor old man (Tliady
Rock,) before alluded to, on the road side, with a fork in his
hand, scraping up some dung that lay in the ditch. It was
pitiable to look at him — I shall not attempt description. On
c 2
26
asking him what he was doing ? he replied, “ scraping up this
bit of manure, as it’s all I have left now. I am striving to
make out a few bits, if I can get a potato to sow. We went
down the togher to the place where the village had been, and
on our approach towards the first ruin, we heard a wild and
piercing cry. We looked, but saw nothing, still the cry con-
tinued. A little onward, and we saw all. I protest to heaven,
the scene outstrips all imagination. I would to God I had
never beheld it, for it has affected me physically and mentally
since, and the gentlemen who accompanied me, protest before
heaven, that they would not accept the emperorship of the
world, on the terms of again beholding such another sight.
On a ditch, under a thorn, sat two as pretty girls as I have
ever seen, and two old women (both widows) ; and from these,
and two boys who were a few paces off, the cry proceeded. On
observing us — for we came on them rather suddenly — they
started up and ran away, for the poor creatures imagined we
were going to hunt them off. One of my friends (they all
spoke Irish) called after them in Irish, and they immediately
stopped. We went over to them, and I asked one of the
women what they were crying for? She could not speak
English, but in reply to my friends, she said they came to cry
over the ruins where their fathers for three generations had
been born, and reared ; but they thought we were going to
hunt them off. They were assured that we had no such in-
tention, and that we only came to see the place, and make some
inquiry. One of the old women then turned to the other, and
said these are the gentlemen, and that’s the other gentleman
(pointing at me) sent by the Queen (for I had been magnified
into a government commissioner by more than the poor people,
(but of that hereafter) from England, to see the misery, God
bless him. Of course this is a translation, as the only word I
could recognise was “ sassanagh” This incident might have
made me laugh at another moment, but I assure you from
what I saw and the wailing which I heard around me, my feel-
ings were at that time very foreign from a disposition to indulge
in mirth. I asked one of the girls if she spoke English, and
she replied she did. Whose daughter are you ? Thady Kil-
martin’s. Did you live here ? Yes, sir, (and she burst into
an uncontrolled fit of wailing, that still rings in my ears).
We lived over there (pointing to the house), but they came
and threw it down a- top of us. Well, where do you live now ?
27
Over there (pointing in the direction of Mount Bellew). How
old are you ? About 14 or 15 years. What brought you here
now ? I came to look for an old pot to boil a few potatoes. Has
your father much potatoes now ? Only very little, sir, said
the girl, sobbing loudly. I then turned to the other, one of
the sweetest-faced children (about 12 years of age) I had ever
beheld. She too was wailing, but not so louldly as the others.
There sat the poor girl with her petticoat wrapped round her
shoulders, and rocking to and fro. “Well, my poor child,”
said I, “what are you crying for?” She looked full in my
face, strove to give me a reply, but she failed ; her tears and
sobs almost choked her. I offered her a few words of consola-
tion— I should rather say I spoke kindly to her, and in some
time she was able to converse with me, as she had for the moment
conquered her feelings. “ Whose daughter are you ?” “ Pat
Nail’s, sir.” “ Where did your house stand?” “ There, sir,”
pointing to the ruin, and again she burst out crying. She was
joined by the old woman (the Widow Gavin), and the two
boys. I was even more affected than I would care to mention
upon paper, and my companions shed tears.
Mr. Donovan asked the old woman of what use was it to be
crying there ? The answer was, sure they might be allowed
to cry where their three generations before them lived. The
scene reminded me of some of those desolations so touchingly
described in scripture. The poor village of Ballinlass was a
Jerusalem to its own daughters. Mr. By an then commenced
making a sketch of the place, and the old woman with the two
boys accompanied us, giving any information we required, as
to who lived here — how much land each person had, &c. After
going on for some time, one of the boys said, rather alarmed —
“Look, here’s Kenny, one of the bailiffs, coming.” “Well,
my boy,” said I, “what of that?” “Maybe, sir,” said the
poor fellow, “ he’ll put us off.” “ Do not be alarmed,” said I.
Kenny came up shortly after, and he was not over a minute
with us when the boys — as if by magic — disappeared, and we
saw no more of them. I don’t know why they left us, but the
observation made by the little fellow a short time before may
lead to a solution. Kenny, however, did not attempt to exter-
minate us ; he went with us all through, and altogether I am
bound to say that, although he was exceeding chary of his
answers (I don’t blame him for that), he acted civilly, and I
was very glad that I met him, as I consider his evidence
28
important. After some general conversation we proceeded
with Mr. Ryan, who was still sketching as we went on. That
gentleman asked Kenny what the land was an acre at the boggy
side of the togher ? There are two of the tenants (said Kenny,
pointing to the widows), they will tell you all you want to know.
I told Kenny that we would be very glad of his company,
and that we would feel obliged by his contradicting any of their
statements if they told us anything save truth. This he pro-
mised to do, and went on with us.
“ Well,” said Mr. Ryan to the women, “ what was paid an
acre for this land ?” Thirty shillings. Is it for that land next
the bog ? Yes, sir. Is that true, Mr. Kenny ? Oh, yes, it
was taken all around at thirty shillings first, but you know the
other side is a great deal better than this.
Mr. Ryan is a practical man, and knows the value of land
well : he holds extensively himself, and he declared most posi-
tively that the land at the left next the bog was not worth more
than from ten to fifteen shillings an acre, the latter being over
the mark for the best portion of it. I stated in a former letter
that the land at the back of the village was good, and so it
is, considering, as already remarked, that it was partly re-
claimed by the people, who made it good land for its parti-
cular kind. I never meant to say that it was land of a first-
rate quality — what I meant was as above, and I now repeat it
was good land. Mr. Ryan valued it at a pound an acre, some
of it might be worth a little more, but the average was a pound,
allowing the tenants to live.
Well, Mr. Kenny, said Mr. Ryan, if you built a house in that
field, or suppose you got one built for you, would you under-
take to pay 30s. an acre for it? I don’t know, there are the
tenants and they will tell you all.
Mr. Ryan — Row, don’t you know ’in your conscience, as an
honest man, it’s not worth 10s. an acre? I don’t know any-
thing about it ?
Mr. Ryan — It’s not worth 10s. yet it was let at 30s. and the
people paid, and were willing to pay that sum for it, but they
were turned out, notwithstanding, and don’t you think that a
great hardship ? I don’t know anything about it, they will
tell you all themselves.
I asked Kenny did the people owe any rent ? They did to
be sure.
Mr. Ryan — But they offered to pay it, did they not ?
29
Kenny — If they did, do you think they would be ejected?
Mr. Donovan — Did not Mick Connor offer to pay his rent,
and were you not present as well as myself on that occasion ?
Yes, I saw him, but I don’t know anything about it.
Mr. Donovan — You may be put on your oath, perhaps, about
this business ; so can’t you as well oblige us by answering our
questions — that is anything you know ?
Kenny — Oh ! when I am on my oath, I’ll tell the truth then.
Mr. Tully — Then you are not telling truth now ? I don’t
know whether I am or not.
Mr. Ryan — What would you give, or what would you offer
for that land ? When I am going to get it I know what to
offer for it. I’ll tell you nothing more ; they are there them-
selves, and let them tell all about it.
I again asked him to come with us, and contradict anything
they told us, if not correct, and this he promised to do, and
kept his promise.
The women were asked if they were able and willing to pay
the rent, and if so, did they offer it to any person, and to whom ?
They replied that they were able and willing to pay the rent,
and so were the majority of the people in the village, but those
who were able offered to pay for those who were not, and all
(by such means) offered to pay the rent except one man.
(That was exactly what poor Rock told me.)
Kenny — Don’t you know as well as I do, that you didn’t pay
the rent ? Women — Yes, but didn’t we offer to pay it, but it
wouldn’t be taken.
Kenny — No, you didn’t offer to pay the rent ; sure if you
did you would not have been turned out.
Women — Oh, Paddy Kenny, Paddy Kenny, how can you
say that — were not you present when we offered the rent,
and it wouldn’t be taken ? Kenny — Yes ; but you wouldn’t
give it unless you got receipts for it.
Mr. Tully observed that it was quite natural for people who
paid money for rent, or anything else, to require a receipt
for it.
Kenny — Yes, but they never got receipts before.
I asked him to explain this, but he would not, or could not,
when Mr. Tully elucidated it as follows :
It appears that the “ one man,” so often before mentioned,
who refused to pay the rent, had some of his land let to under-
tenants. He went away, leaving some rent due ; the people
30
offered the rent which they used to pay this man to the agent
of Mrs. Gerrard, and demanded receipts, but he would not
give any receipt except one “ on account” of rent due. The
people owed no rent, and therefore they refused to take receipts
on'account. I shall give you a more elaborate history of this
point hereafter, hut at present I must pursue the plan which I
laid down at first, namely, that of going on step by step, as I
have proceeded day by day since I came here. When Mr.
Tully had ceased speaking about the receipts,
Kenny said — Oh, aye, sir, that was the excuse they had, you
know, but they didn’t pay the rent all the time.
Look (said one of the widows), see how they threw down the
house here on my little bit of manure, the only hope I had to
set a potatoe.
Kenny — Well, and wasn’t that your own fault ; didn’t Mrs.
Gerrard offer to send carts to carry away all the dung, and
everything else, but you wouldn’t take it out ? Yes, indeed,
said the woman, a purty way it was to offer carts to take away
our bit of dung, when she ordered the toglier to be cut across,
to prevent cars, or even ourselves from passing.
No, she did’nt, said Kenny
The road has been cut across in several places, said one of
my friends ; what was it done for ? I don’t know, said Kenny,
but it wasn’t done for that.
Then, what was it done for ? Kenny — I don’t know ; sure
they are there themselves, and they will tell you all.
Let me observe, here, that the road was not cut across for the
purpose alleged by the widow women, and Kenny was quite
right in asserting it was not ; but I will tell you what it was
cut for. There is a village some distance to the east of Bal-
linlass, on the estate of Mr. Cheevers, and the people of this
village used sometimes to make the togher through Ballinlass a
short cut going to Mountbellew, Galway, &c. , and the road was
cut across to prevent that.
Here I must break off for this evening, as the post is gone,
and I must send this to Koscommon.
31
LETTER IV.
Roscommon, Saturday Night,
28th March, 1846.
I wrote you yesterday from Ballinamore, in Galway ; I have
since come to this town. Without further preface I continue
my second visit to Bailinlass. At the point where I was obliged
to conclude my last letter, we were joined by a poorly dressed
man, but he was clean and very decent looking — There now,
said Kenny (the bailiff), is one more of the tenants, and he will
tell you all you want to know.
Were you one of the people who were turned out? I was,
sir, and there is my poor old house, sticks and all.
What is your name ? Thady Kilmartin.
I now wish to put a question to you, said I, and give me the
answer here in presence of Kenny, in order that he may con-
tradict you if you don’t speak the truth. Do you know of
your own knowledge, of any tenant residing on Mrs. Gerrard’s
property who, either in writing or by word of mouth, got notice
not to let in any person who was turned out of this village ? I
do not indeed, sir.
Did you hear that such an order was given to any one ? I
did not, indeed, sir.
I told Kenny I was very glad to hear the man say so, and
Kenny said he never heard of such an order.
Mr. Tully — But where are you living now ? At the house
of my sister.
Is she a tenant on the estate of Mrs. Gerard ? She is, and I
don’t think it likely such an order would be sent to her, for
they know right well she would not take it, as she let in my-
self and my family, or we might starve and die in the ditches.
Such an order might be given but I never heard of it.
Kenny then asked me if I were satisfied that such an order
was not given ? I told him so far as Kilmartin had gone I was
quite satisfied that he had not heard either of any person get-
ting such an order, or the order itself, but that I was told such
an order had been given. He declared he never heard of it.
Mr. Ryan (to Kenny) — Now can’t you tell me if you would
give 30s. an acre for this land ? Kenny — I would not give
30s. for it, but the people who were turned out gave it, and
32
they are now looking for places not as good, and offering more
than that for them, but you see they can’t get any place so
good as this for any money.
Tell me, said Mr. Tully, who owns all the property about
here? Mrs. Gerrard.
For miles around asked Mr. Donovan? Yes, except where
the mearings run in.
How many acres has she about here ? I don’t know, but
I heard them say about 12 thousand acres.
Then, said Mr. Tully, it is not very wonderful why the poor
people can’t get places about here.
I can’t tell you, sir, said Kenny, there are worse landlords
in the county of Galway than Mr. and Mrs. Gerrard.
My good friend, Kenny, said I, you mistake us. We did not
say they are bad landlords.
I know you didn’t sir.
Nor did one of my friends ? No sir, certainly, but maybe
you and them think she is a bad landlord, do you sir, said the
fellow looking at me with a degree of rogueish interrogating
simplicity that was positively provoking.
I looked at the fellow, but perhaps I have no right to apply
a disparaging epithet to him, as he was obliged to do, as the
police say, “his duty.” I looked at the man as did my com-
panions, and he shrunk from beneath our gaze ; one of my
friends in the excitement of the moment made use of an ex-
pression which I shall not record here, but under the peculiar
circumstances of the case and the feelings by which he was
actuated, it was perhaps pardonable.
There is land let in this county dearer than this was, said
Kenny.
Where? asked Mr. Tully? Under Martin French, replied
Kenny.
But does he exterminate the tenantry on his property?
I never heard he did.
Has he any worse land than this let at such a high rent ?
No, I don’t think he has, but I will het you a pound that I show
you worse land in the county? I don’t doubt that.
Well, will you het the pound, said Kenny, with another
rogueish wink at me ? Not just now, Mr. Kenny, you are too
well up to these matters.
I asked Kenny if he thought the land was let too high ?
That was their own consarn , said he, some of them had 50s. an
33
acre from the under tenants, bad as the land was, and she
(Mrs. Gerrard) got only 30s. for it. Pat Connally paid 50s.
for it, and he was one of the under tenants.
Mr. Donovan — And yet Mrs. Gerrard put him out ? Kenny
— And why not, when she didn’t get her rent.
Mr. Tully — But was not the rent offered to herself or her
agent? Kenny — I have nothing to do with that, I suppose
she can do what she likes with her own land.
Mr Donovan — Will she set this land again? Kenny — I
don’t know what her intentions may be about that.
Mr. Tully — It will feed bullocks very well for her ;
Kenny — Well, and may she not do that if she likes, I suppose f
We were now joined by a poor sickly looking man. Dis-
ease and want were depicted in his face. His haggard look
and deep dejection, told that his disease was both mental and
bodily. Kenny said, here is another of the tenants, and he
will tell you all.
And of course Mr. Kenny you will listen to any thing he
says, and contradict him if he states a falsehood, I said.
Kenny — Of course I will, sir. you appear to be a gentleman,
but these other gentlemen are too hot for me.
Never mind, I replied, I don’t wonder at their being excited at
this horrible sight ; you appear to be an intelligent Galway man,
and is it not a shocking thing to look on ? Kenny — I dont know,
sure they will tell you all themselves as I know nothing about it.
But you can’t help looking at what is before you ? Kenny —
Very well sir.
I then asked the man who had recently joined us, his name,
and he replied Mathew Rock.
Do you live here ? The man looked at me with tears in his
eyes, and lapping his coat — not an outside one — about his chest
and neck, and pointing to a prostrate house, said — “Hived
there before now , sir.”
Did you owe any rent ? Rock — I did, sir.
Were you able to pay it ? Why, I was, sir. I made a shift
to get the money.
Did you pay your rent, then ? No, sir.
Why not ? Because it wouldn’t be taken from me.
Why so ? I don’t know, your honour.
When did you offer to pay the rent ? I offered it every May
and November for the last five half years.
D
34
Did the other tenants offer the rent also ? Every one of
them but one, sir.
The herd, Kenny, here, says you neither paid rent, nor
offered to pay it; is that true? No, sir, it is not, and I say
before his face, we did offer to pay the rent, every May and
November.
Is that true, Kenny ? I don’t know.
Rock — You know it is, and I say we did offer to pay it.
Kenny — Sure if you did, you would not have been ejected .
Don’t you know in your heart and soul, said Rock, that we
offered the rent, and that it would not be taken ?
* Kenny— Didn’t Mr. Holmes (the head agent and attorney
of Mrs. Gerrard, as I was informed) come down here last
harvest,- along with Mr. O’Loughlen (the gentleman who acted
as law-agent of the poor people), and wasn’t your crop going
to be seized for the rent ? and didn’t you then, to save the crop,
make an agreement with the gentlemen, and sign your hands
to it ? Rock — Yes, we signed a paper, but we did not know
what it was about, as we left it all to our attorney, but they
turned it against us after.
Kenny— What made you sign it, then ? Rock — Because we
did not know the meaning of it.
I asked him to tell me when he offered the last gale of rent ?
and he replied in May last.
Kenny — Sure you were processed for rent before you signed
the consent. Rock — Yes, we signed the consent because we
were fools, and did not know what it was for.
As none of the people could tell me anything about this
consent, I asked my friends to explain it, which they did as
follows : — you will recollect that some of the people paid rent
to others, and to this I have already alluded, and that when
one of these middle-men went away the people offered to pay
the rent to the owner of the land but it was refused, unless a
sum of £40 alleged to be due by Gavin (that was the man’s
name) was paid also. I may as well state here the whole history
of this part of the case, and you will perceive by the conversa-
tion that followed that it is correct. Tom Gavin held land (I
could not ascertain the exact quantity) to the amount of £80
a year ; he was a man, I am credibly informed, worth some
thousands, and was known in all parts of Galway as ‘ 4 Wealthy
Tom” — I forget what the Irish of the expression is. He had
35
only one daughter. I met a gentleman on whose veracity you
may rely for the following curious fact. He met Tom one day
at the market of Mount Belle w, and said to him, jokingly,
Tom, will you give me your daughter ? Tom replied he would,
and welcome. And what fortune will you give her? If she
likes you, said Tom, and consents to marry you, I’ll give you
three thousand guineas, and maybe you would not he
left trusting to that when I’m dying. Tom invited the gentle-
man to his house, and he went. He gave me the most
ludicrous account I have ever heard, of the hut of this miser ,
but I must content myself by stating, that he found a couple ct
cows, a goat, and two pigs, tied up in the same apartment where
his ‘‘intended” lay snugly on a wad of straw in the corner..
He (my friend) had new top-boots on at the time, and he took
them off to get the mud taken from them. Peggy, herself,
took them under special charge, and brought them back nicely
cleaned, but apologised that she couldn’t blacken the tops as
as well as the bottoms. The fact was, added my friend, the
boots were spoiled, and I never wore them after. And of
course you didn’t marry Peg gy ? No, he replied, and for a
good and very excellent reason. What was it? Simply this
— that Peggy told me, plump in my face, she wouldn’t have
me if I was twice as great a gentleman ; that when I would
have the money with her, that’s all I wanted, and then I would
not care a tranheen about her ; and said she would marry a
barefooted boy, that would love and like her, and not a fellow
like me that wore such grand boots. I asked the gentleman
seriously if Gavin was worth £3,000, and he assured me on his
honour, that he knew him to be worth over £6,000 at that
time (some years ago), and that he was, of course, worth more
now, as he was a great miser, and put by large sums of monfey
every year. This episodical departure from the course of my
story, is hardly pardonable, but the story struck me, and, as
they say in the country, I nearly died laughing at the details
given by my friend, and I could not deny myself the pleasure
of putting the fact very shortly on record, notwithstanding
the grave subject on which I am engaged. But to return.
Gavin went away to another part of the county, where his
daughter had got married. He left his land at Ballinlass to
the people, and told them to do what they liked with it. It
was alleged that he owed £40, and until this was paid, no rent
would be taken from the tenants except on “account,” and as
36
they owed nothing, they refused to take receipts on account.
It appears, then, I said, that this was what gave rise to the recent
extermination ; no, added my friend (authorising me to use
his name), that was just used as a pretext to get the people
out, for Mrs. Gerrard and the agent knew very well that they
could recover £40, or as many hundreds, from Gavin (if he
owed it) at any time they thought fit. In order to preserve
the thread of my story, I must now necessarily travel, as it
were, backward, and note what took place after, and the
continuation of the conversation with Kenny and the people.
I asked, who was Mr. O’Loughlin, and I was informed that
he was an attorney who undertook to defend the ejectments.
And were they defended ? Not at all.
Explain this. Holmes and O’Loughlin came down here ; the
people had been served, and they were advised to sign consents
for decrees against them ; the poor people did not know what
they were doing, and they signed the consent, and, at the next
sessions, the decrees were obtained behind their backs.
Rock said that was quite true, and appealed to Kenny if it
were not so.
Kenny met the appeal with the never-failing escape-hole
answer of “ I don’t know.”
Come, said Rock, with a degree of manly indignation — come,
if you be a man, and answer me this : Did not you see Holmes
pay £55 to O’Loughlin in my presence ? Kenny stood mute
for a while, and, looking up at the clouds, he said, I saw you
with them, but I don’t know what it was about.
I declare to God, said Rock, and I am ready to swear it, I
saw Holmes pay O’Loughlin £55 before my face, and, Paddy
Kenny, you are the man who was present by at the time.
I asked what was this money paid for ? and Rock replied for
costs.
For what costs ? I don’t know.
I will explain this to you, said one of my friends. The poor
people, when served with the notices, were advised to take de-
fence ; and I understand that there was a legal defect in the
notices, on which they would have succeeded, but I am not
certain of that, as I could not get one. They (the people)
went to Mr. O’Loughlin, and employed him to do the business,
and he proceeded accordingly. I don’t know how the consent
was managed, but, at all events, it was obtained. The parties
then met at Mountbellew, and the rent was offered to the
37
agent, but lie would not take it, as he had the consent. The
costs incurred, up to this period of the case, by Mr. O’Logh-
lin, amounted to £55 : and, of course, Holmes paid him, and
that was the money Rock saw paid . That’s the history of that,
said my friend.
The fact, then, is, that the people were regularly trapped
into the consent? We were, sir, said Rock, for if we thought
that any howlt would be taken of us for signing the paper to
turn us out, you know we wouldn’t have done it.
Do you blame Mr. O’Loughlin ? No, sir, we don’t blame
him at all.
Mr. Tully said, Mr. O’Loughlin was a high-minded, honour-
able, and honest man, and one that would not be guilty of any-
thing disreputable , and the fact was, he (Mr. Tully) believed
that Mr. O’Loughlin had been deceived as well as the people,
as he had done the best he could for his clients, but had been
deceived by the specious promises made to him, but these pro-
mises were not kept.
I asked Rock what took place after that ? He said that
ejectment processes were brought against them, and that Mr.
Freeman, the assistant-barrister, gave decrees on the consent.
Then the fact is, the case was not defended at the sessions at
all ? Rock — Not at all, sir ; sure we didn’t know anything
about it at the time.
Where are you living now ? There above, sir.
On whose property ? On Mr. Cheevers’.
Did you hear of any order given by the bailiffs to the tenants
of Mrs. Gerrard not to let in any of the people who were
turned out of this village ? I did
Did you go into any of the tenants’ houses ? I did.
Did any one say against you going into these houses ? No.
And they gave you any assistance you required ? They did,
certainly.
Now tell me, before Kenny here, if you know of any person
who was told by the bailiffs not to let any of you into the
houses, or give you relief or assistance? Why John Hughes
told Billy Gavin that he would not let him in, as he was told
not to do so, and that he (Gavin) ought to go into the poorhouse.
Where does Hughes live ? A good way from this.
Did Hughes say who gave him the notice? Yes, he said
one of the bailiffs, who told him it was her (Mrs. Gerrard’s^)
order, and not to displease or disobey her. d 2
38
Tell me this now, and be very particular, in order that
Kenny may hear your answer — will you bring me to the house,
or show me any person that got such an order ? Rock I can,
sir, and will get it sworn to.
Kilmartin (I said) there never heard such an order, nor was
he refused admission into any house.
Rock — Well, sir, that maybe, but I will tell you now in the
presence of Paddy Kenny, and let him contradict me if he can,
what I heard myself.
Well, go on.
The week we were turned out, I was sick — very bad, I was
at the time, and I did not think I would live. (The poor man
looked wretchedly ill.) I was anointed — is not that true, Paddy
Kenny ? Kenny — I certainly heard you were sick, but I did
not know you were anointed.
Rock — I was, and every person knows it, and if you don’t
believe me, I can get the priest to tell it.
Well, tell me what you heard.
Rock — I heard Mr. Holmes say to my poor wife, that he
would never allow her into any house on the estate, that is a
house for herself, but she might go into a barn, or cow-house,
until she got a place off the estate.
You hear that, Kenny ? I said. I have nothing to say to it,
he replied.
Well, and are you living in a stable, or cow-house, now ?
I am, sir, and glad to get one.
Is it on the estate of Mrs. Gerrard ? It is, sir, Mr. Holmes
never said against any one going into a stable, or barn, or
cow-house, it was only the dwelling-houses he refused us.
Were you ill when you were turned out? I was very bad.
What ailed you ? Fever ; and I did not think they would
throw down the houses. I thought all they wanted was pos-
session, and that we would get into the houses again.
How do you live now ? I mean how do you support your-
self? (Here let me implore the attention of my readers to the
man’s answer.) “ How do Hive,” said he, repeating my ques-
tion, and giving such a look of horror and despair — such a
look — but no, description is useless, let the reply be the des-
cription, “ I have 8 persons in family, and I have not 8 baskets
of potatoes in the world to feed them, and they (the potatoes)
not good either. I have not as much as will do them for a
fortnight, and I wont have a bit to eat on Easter Sunday —
39
God help me, I don’t know what to do, or where to go,” and
the poor fellow buried his pale face in his hands and sobbed
loudly. It was truly affecting ; my friends — and I honour their
names for it — they wept bitterly, and even Kenny was affected,
for although he thought to conceal it, I saw tears in his eyes.
LETTER. V.
Roscommon, Sunday,
29th March, 1846.
In opening this letter I have only to observe that it is a con-
tinuation of my last.
Did you (I asked Rock) ever go to Mrs. Gerrard yourself
and tell her your case ?
Rock — We went to the lodge with the rent and asked to see
her. She came out, but went in immediately. We then asked
to see the master (Mr. Gerrard), and he came out and was
speaking to us at the door, when the mistress thought he was
stopping too long ; and she came out and told him to come in
out of that, and not to be annoying himself with us or our
affairs, and Paddy Kenny knows that.
I know nothing about you, said Kenny.
We asked Kenny if he knew how many tenants were in the
land ? He said that thirty tenants took the whole farm at first,
and brought their families to the village.
I said that the two widows (Gavin) had stated that their
three generations had lived there, and that Thady Rock said
he resided there for over 68 years.
Kenny said perhaps that was true, as there were under
tenants who lived there for a long time. The thirty tenants
(he said) who took the land altogether at 30s. an acre, about
17 years ago, let the undertenants remain.
How many families were in the village altogether ? Kenny
— Why the 30 who took it, and they brought in about 30 or 40
more, including undertenants and all.
By this time Mr. Ryan had finished his sketch, and as the
day was advancing we prepared to depart.
The people came with us to the road, and gave us their
blessing as we bid a final farewell for the present to the Gerrard-
ised village of Ballinlass.
The word “ Gerrardised ,” in the last sentence, has been
40
substituted down here for the well-known and common-place
word, exterminated, and perhaps it will answer the purpose
just as well, or better, as the people know the idea much easier
by the former than the latter name, the only difficulty being
that the substitution will not be found in a quarto volume of
Johnson’s dictionary.
When we were preparing to leave the village we learned
that Mr. Holmes, Mr. Gerrard’s law agent, was coming post
from Galway, and was expected every moment to a house some
distance off. I was much pleased at this piece of information,
as I imagined an opportunity would be afforded me of having
a conversation with Mr. Holmes, which I very much desired.
We waited a considerable time on the road that Mr. Holmes
should pass, but ffie did not arrive; so, having a long road
before us, and the day waxing late, we departed.
I will here mention to you a statement that I have heard,
made upon every side of me. The matter as it is told by pub-
lic rumour, is certainly not true ; I mention it to you to show
the degree of irritation and excitement that is abroad through
the country — the result of this deplorable extermination. It
is commonly stated and believed that Mrs. Gerrard, on being
saluted by some person, and asked how she did, replied —
“ Thank you, I am well, thriving, and getting fat on the
curses of the wretches .” I heard this on sufficiently good au-
thority to make it well worth my while to inquire into its
truth. It is firmly believed anong the country people. I
satisfied myself, however, that Mrs. Gerrard never used such
an expression, and that she is a lady of such habits and m an-
ners that a phrase so coarse — not to speak of its inhumanity —
could not possibly have fallen from her. I proceeded to trace
the foundation of this statement; and I heard upon high
authority that Mr. Gerrard, in reply to some persons who
made some allusion to the exasperation existing among the
people in consequence of the clearances he had made from time
o time, answered that his bullocks were fattening on the lands
and thriving on the curses of the wretches. Of course I do
not vouch for this. Though I heard it on most respectable
authority, I cannot believe it ; but the worse rumour is fully
believed among the country people. I mention this circum-
stances to show you the terrible feeling of hostility that these
clearances give rise to between landlord land tenant, and how
much evil these parties are ready to believe of one another.
41
LETTER VI.
Roscommon Monday.
I now resume. On arriving at Bally gar in the evening, we
met the professional gentleman — Mrs. Gerrard’s relation —
whom I made mention of in a former letter, to which I refer
your readers in order to keep up the chain of this history.
After some general conversation, I was asked if I saw the
place where she turned out the friars at Tougheragara ? I
replied in the affirmative, and said as it was a somewhat stale
transaction I did not intend to notice it.
You ought then, said Mr. , for she whacked the poor old
priests out of it, and left nothing standing but the little chapel
— I suppose she was afraid or ashamed to touch that ; there is
a poor old priest there and you would pity him. (The speaker
is a protestant, and of high Conservative principles, and a
most respectable gentleman.)
I asked him if he had any quarrel with his relation , and I
did so with the intention of ascertaining if he were swayed by
prejudice against her. His reply was we never had a quarrel,
I am one of her heirs, but I don’t know whether she will leave
me anything or not. I don’t care for that, as I never liked
her, because she was such an exterminator, still I must say
she is a lady in manners — she is most accomplished and polite.
There was a general reply of “ I dare say.”
We walked about the town to see the market, and were fol-
lowed by a large crowd of people, who gazed, (my friends were
all well-known to the people), pointed at, and spoke about me
(all in Irish), as the “ government man,” until I felt actually
ashamed. A very large landed proprietor — one of the largest
in the county — sent a professional friend of his to the house
of a gentleman where I had visited at Ballygar, to ascertain
“if I really were a government commissioner, and what
brought me down ? And if I were not a commissioner, to find
out who and what I was, for he had heard a great deal about
me, and was anxious to know it all.” The gentleman to whom
this application was made, in order to have a joke, mystified
the occasion of my appearance very much, and this set the
whole country on the qui vive , and every person formed their
own opinion, and I need hardly tell you with what alacrity
42
they magnified me into “the great man.” Here a very
respectable-looking and well-dressed female, about thirty-two
years of age, addressed us. Mr. Tully knew her, and she
said her husband was dead, and was brother to an attorney in
Dublin. I live in Crow Village, said she, and we have been
all served with notices to quit. I don’t know what we will do.
(This is one of the villages mentioned already.)
Have you got one of the notices ? Yes, said the woman and
she handed us the following notice.
COUNTY OF GALWAY, ^ John Loveland complains
to wit. > of John Thrustout, in the custody
) of the Marshal of the Marshalsea
of our Sovereign Lady the Queen, before the Queen herself,
being of a Plea of Tresspass and Ejectment of a Farm, for
that WHEREAS John Netterville Gerrard, Esquire, and
Marcella Netterville Gerrard, his wife, on the thirteenth day
of March in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred
and forty-six, at Tuam, in said County, had demised, granted,
and to Farm- set unto the said John Loveland, ALL THAT
AND THOSE that part of the Lands under the denomination
of Crow Village, as now, or at any time heretofore in the
possession of Celia Connor and Mary Mahon, otherwise Carr,
or either of them, all which said Lands and Premises are
situate, lying and being in the Barony of Killyan, and County
of Galway aforesaid : TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and
singular the said demised Premises, with the Appurtances, to
the said John Loveland, his executors, Administrators and
assigns, from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of
our Lord aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space
of Twenty-one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully
to be completed and ended. And also for that WHEREAS
John Gerrard, Esquire, and Marcella Gerrard, otherwise
Netterville, his wife, on the thirteenth day of March in the
^ear of our Lord aforesaid, at Tuam aforesaid, in the said
County of Galway, had demised, granted and to Farm-set
unto the said John Loveland, the said Premises with the
Appurtenances : TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and singular
the said demised Premises, with the Appurtenances, to the
said John Loveland, his Executors, Administrators and Assigns,
from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of our Lord
aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space of twenty-
one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully to be
completed and ended. And also for that WHEREAS The
Right Honorable Arthur James, Earl of Fingal, on the thir-
teenth day of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, at
Tuam aforesaid, in the said County of Galway, had demised,
granted and to Farm-set unto the said John Loveland, the
said Premises, with the Appurtenances: to have and
43
to hold all and singular the said demised Premises, with
the appurtenances, to the said John Loveland, his executors,
administrators and assigns, from the said thirteenth day of
March, in the year of our Lord aforesaid, for and during the
term, time and space of Twenty-one years next ensuing, and
from thenceforth fully to be completed and ended. And also
for that WHEREAS Marcella Gerrard, otherwise Netterville,
commonly called Marcella Netterville Gerrard, on the thirteenth
day of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, at Tuam afore-
said, in the County of Galway, had demised, granted and to
Farm-set unto the said John Loveland, the said Premises, with
the Appurtenances: TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and
singular the said demised Premises, with the Appurtenances,
to the said John Loveland, his Executors, Administrators and
Assigns, from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of
©ur Lord aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space of
Twenty-one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully to be
completed and ended. By virtue of which said several demises,
the aforesaid John Loveland, to wit, on the said thirteenth day
of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, entered into the said
demised Premises, and was thereof possessed, until he the said
John Thrustout afterwards, to wit on the thirteenth day of March
in the year of our Lord aforesaid, entered with Force and Arms
and soforth, into the said demised Premises, with the Appur-
tenances, in and upon the peaceable possession of the said John
Loveland, ejected, drove out and removed him the said John
Loveland, from the possession of his said Farm (his said Term
therein not being then expired) and the said John Loveland
being so ejected, drove out and removed from his possession
thereof, withheld, and still doth withhold, and then and there
brought other injuries upon him, against the peace of our said
now Lady the Queen, and to the damage of the said John Love-
land of one hundred pounds sterling, and thereupon the said
John Loveland brings his suit and soforth.
As of Hilary Term, in the ninth Year of the Reign of her
Majesty Queen Victoria, and soforth, and in the Year of our
Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-six.
Pledges to prosecute, John Galway, Attorney, 11, Summer-
hill, Dublin, John Doe and Richard Roe, John G. Holmes.
SlRt
You may understand by the above Declaration that I am
sued as casual Ejector in her Majesty’s Court of Queen’s Bench
in Ireland, as of last Hilary Term, for the Lands and Tene-
ments above mentioned, whereunto I have no claim : these are
therefore to desire you to retain an Attorney of the same Court
to appear for you next Easter term, and defend your title to
the Premises, (if any you have), otherwise I will suffer Judg-
ment to pass against me by default, and then you will be turned
out of possession.
I am your Friend, John Thrustout.
44
To the tenant in possession, and all others concerned.
J ohn Galway, Attorney for the Plaintiff and his Lessors,
Number Eleven, Summer-hill, Dublin.
We saw several of the inhabitants of this village, all of whom
were similarly circumstanced. They were in the greatest con-
sternation, and as they themselves said, knew not what to do.
I then waited on Dr. French, the Medical Superintendent
of the Dispensary, who stated he wished to mention a fact in
connexion with the eviction. He said about ten or twelve days
before that day (Thursday), a person named John Clarke,
who was turned out of the village, came to Ballygar ; he was
sick with with fever at the time, and it was communicated to
a child who is now lying ill of the same malady ; the man,
after getting a little better, went to the house of his sister
where two of the inhabitants caught the fever and are now
lying ill, and he (Dr. French) very much feared it would
spread with rapidity through the country, if means were not
taken to arrest its progress. The fever (added the Doctor),
was not so contagious for the last three years as at present, and
he feared the consequences very much.
Of course Doctor, you don’t know how the fever originated ?
Dr. French — oh, yes, it was in the village at the time the
people were evicted.
I asked this gentleman if he thought that fact were known
to the lady and her husband, at the time the eviction took
place? He could not tell, but it was well known that fever
was in the village at the time.
I told Dr. French I would take a note of our conversation,
and he said sir, most willingly. Mrs. Gerrard is an acquain-
tance of mine, but I would not on that account conceal any
thing coming within my knowledge in reference to this case.
The following, I dare say will be read with some interest.
I honour the young English officer for his manly spirit and
for the sympathy he exhibited, but the fact speaks more than
any praise I could bestow on it. Speaking of the scene that
took place on the 13th, an officer stationed with a detachment
of military at Ballygar, who with his company were obliged
to attend on the Sheriff at the eviction, said : “it was horrible
to see the poor devils surely — they offered us the money, but
we could not take it. When the people had collected in the
fields behind the houses, did you mind the d d rascals how
ordered us to charge if the (the people) did not go off, but no,
45
we spurned the d d rascals — we charge the people ! not we.”
This gentleman also gave one of the poor widows who suffered
half-a-crown to get her dinner. You may rely on these facts.
Mr. (the lady’s relative) said to me, if the Times Com-
missioner had come down here, he might have had something
to do instead of going to Darrynane ; for if the people were
badly off there, they were not hunted out of their houses. I
think, sir, he continued, that some good ought to come of this
case, when laid before the public, by your means. It is a hor-
rible thing to see a country thus laid waste of inhabitants, and
to turn the land which was destined for the support of the
people into bullock walks ; you have seen enough yourself of
that ; I trust the legislature will now see the necessity of adop-
ting some measure to secure the unfortunate tenantry, for it is
almost beyond human nature to bear up against acts of this
description ; we hear a great deal about assassinations, &c.,
but, in order to cure the evil, the disease should be ascertained.
Is it any wonder that we hear of murders ? We have enough
of them — but we seldom hear of wholesale manslaughter such as
the present, perpetrated by the peasantry. However, I trust
that, through your publicity of this case — and the country
should feel grateful to the establishment to which you belong,
for having sent you here — that something will be done by Par-
liament to remedy such evils.
The above sentiments do honour to the head and heart of the
speaker.
I am coming now to a close, so far as the facts of this most
melancholy case, but I shall occupy another letter summing up
all, and giving a general review and outline of the whole mat-
ter. I don’t think this would be an appropriate place to do so,
as, up to the present moment, I have confined myself solely to
the facts and conversations ; still I may be able to give some
interesting information and particulars that did not come under
any particular class or head already enumerated in my former
letters .
Perhaps it is unnecessary for me to say that, during this to
me painful enquiry, I have had one, and only one, object in
view — the elucidation of the truth. I was not prejudiced one
way or the other, and I speak sincerely when I say that I have
“ nothing extenuated, nor set down aught in malice.” I have
given my authors — they would not deceive me — I have endea-
voured to describe what I beheld, and my eyes could not de-
46
ceive. It is only just to say, that I did not meet any of the
remaining Gerrard tenantry who actually were forbidden to al-
low the people into their houses, or to afford them assistance ;
you have the evidence on this point at both sides — let the pub-
lic decide. I should be wanting in gratitude were I to omit
making honourable mention of the names of the gentlemen
already before you, whose assistance was most invaluable
to me. I shall always entertain the highest respect for
the noble and generous-hearted people of this much reviled
and persecuted country.
I cannot close without stating that the clergy of the neigh-
bourhood, Mr. Donovan, and other gentlemen are entitled to
great praise, for I have it on the authority of an officer, that
their exertions perhaps prevented bloodshed. The people
remained most tranquil, and have since their eviction. The
following beautiful lines of our own immortal poet, Goldsmith,
are realized here — one would almost think he looked on the
wreck of Ballinlass —
“ Princes and lords may flourish or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath has made ;
But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride,
When once destroyed can never be supplied.”
LETTER VII.
Roscommon, Tuesday.
In this, my concluding letter, on the'subject of the unfortu-
nate tenantry of Mrs. Gerrard, I have little to add to my
former letters, so far as facts are concerned : but I cannot close
this matter without taking a brief review of the case, therefore
I have most studiously abstained from offering one word of
comment — it was not my province to do so. I did not indulge
in any remark calculated to hurt the feelings of any person or
party, nor did I write one syllable of what I heard, without
evidence of the clearest and most incontrovertible character,
to sustain what I have advanced. I was deputed by you to
execute a special commission, and I trust I have performed
that duty, if not with ability, at least with truthful impartiality.
I have not given credence to anything, unless what appeared
to me the most convincing, and capable of being sustained by
47
evidence. In this respect I can safely say, that no impulse
of feeling, no matter how strongly I may have felt on certain
points, has caused me to deviate either to the right or left. I feel
this explanation the more incumbent on me, as no doubt what
I have written will be noticed in other places besides this
journal, to which I have the high honour and privilege of
being attached. Had I set down all I heard, I could have
filled a volume with, perhaps, idle, but readable stories.
That was not my province, nor was it your intention ; and,
acting up to this principle, I have endeavoured to steer my
course through the shoals of difficulties by which I was sur-
rounded. Let me also observe, that you have the thanks of
every person here for being the first journal to call public
attention — at least so far as details are concerned — to the
“clearance” system in this county. It is but right to say
that the majority of landlords in this part of the country
deprecate, in strong terms, the conduct of persons who indulge
in this wholesale extermination of their tenantry without cause
or complaint, and many of them — I have it on the most un-
questionable authority — have expressed their astonishment
how the system has so long prevailed here without incurring,
at least, exposure through the newspapers. After all, the
publication of facts, through the medium of the press, is a
great corrector of abuses, particularly in instances of the
present description. Perhaps the following may serve to cor-
roborate this axiom. A gentleman, whose name and residence
I have in my note-book, had some short time since evicted
certain tenants, under nearly similar circumstances with those
on the Gerrard estate. Having heard that a person was in the
county taking notes for your journal, he sent for the people
who were dispossessed, and asked them were they ready to
pay their rents ? the answer was in the affirmative. The ques„
tion had never been asked them before. He then told the
people that they might return to their places, which it is almost
needless to add, they did with pleasure and thankfulness. The
reason for this, and you may depend on the accuracy of my
statement, was, as the gentleman himself expressed it, that
it was likely the circumstance would come under my notice,
(so it did) and that he would not for thousands be classed
among exterminating landlords. Whether his intentions were
good or otherwise — whether he was afraid of publicity or
not, it matters little ; he has acted fairly, and no matter under
48
what influence a person acts when he performs a good action,
the result to the party receiving the benefit is the same ;
although the donor’s intention be ever so foreign to the imme-
diate action which he has performed. These remarks, however
crudely thrown together, have forced themselves on my mind,
and no matter how inadequate I may be to the task of true
delineation, I flatter myself that I cannot be charged with
0 mendacious assertion. There is no use in my dwelling on this
; subject, as I shall have occasion hereafter to be more elaborate,
intending as I do to give you a brief history of Molly
Maguireism — its origin and progress in Roscommon and Galway,
and I have no doubt that I shall be able to show that the people
have been forced into this by the persecution of the landlords.
But of this anon.
We asked some of the poor people what was the matter with
the herds ? and they replied Mr. Holmes was coming post from
** Galway, and they were going to meet that gentleman, as he
would be down in a short time. I was much pleased at this piece
of information, as I imagined an opportunity would be afforded
me of having a conversation with Mr. Holmes, which I very
much desired. We loitered about the place for some time, but
no carriage appeared. We went on and called our driver. He
told us that great preparations were being made for the recep-
tion of Mr. Holmes (not at the house where he had been, but at
another) and that a servant girl had been to the house to pro-
cure “ white bread” for him, as there was no place else in the
neighbourhood that such an article could be procured — (there
were plenty of rotten potatoes about the place). We still
waited a considerable time, but Mr. Holmes did not arrive, and
we departed, having a long road before us and the day, waxing
late ; we passed several houses on the road side, built by Mrs.
Gerrard for her herdsmen ; they are neat, slated houses, and
exteriorly presented a very comfortable appearance ; I told the
man to stop at one, and we all went in. Of course I expected
to find the interior correspond with the outside, but I was never
more disappointed ; it was lofted, no doubt, but such squalid
misery I have never before witnessed in the cabin of the poorest
peasant, and I have seen hundreds of thousands of such ; there
were two women (one very old) and three children in the house ;
there were a few turf embers on the hearth, and the youngest
child in the place was huddled up in the chimney corner, eating
some potatoes out of the ashes ; the woman of the house was
49
knitting, and, on our entrance, she arose and wiped one of the
chairs with her apron, and invited me in Irish to take an air
of the fire ; there were only two chairs, a dresser, two boxes,
and two small stools in the place ; there was a room off the
kitchen, but I did not see what it contained : there was a heap
of half-decomposed straw in the corner, covered with an old
cloth, and 'resembling a bed ; I asked what it was, and the
woman said the pig lay there. When we left, I remarked that
it was a very wretched house inside, compared to the outside : ^
it’s more for ornament than use, replied one of my companions,
they are all just the same — got up to make a show — and the
poor creatures who live in them are glad to get any place for
shelter. The interior of these herds’ houses, continued my
friend, is far worse than was those of the “ Gerrardised ”
village. We met three Roman Catholic clergymen at the
bridge of Newtown-Gerrard (whilom Newbridge) ; one of these
gentlemen I had the honour of a previous introduction to, and
he presented me, as did also Mr. Tully, to the other two 1 '
was most cordially received, and invited to their houses, but I
could not accept of their kindness. One of them informed me
that Dr. French, a medical gentleman who resides at Ballygar,
had been enquiring for, and wished to see me, as he had some-
thing to mention in connection with the late eviction. I
subsequently had the pleasure of visiting the Doctor, at his
house. Up to this time I have confined myself strictly to facts
connected with the recent affair, but I cannot help mentioning
incidentally here what occurred at Mount-Gerrard in 1841.
This had been at one period a rising village ; a person named
Connor, a man worth some two thousand pounds, kept a shop
here, but having displeased Mrs. Gerrard, she gave him notice
to quit ; he offered her any amount of money not to dispossess
him, but it was refused, and on an appointed day, the sheriff and
bailiffs came and demanded possession. Connor’s father lay ill
of fever in the house ; he was carried out and laid on a bed on
the road, and died in three days after. This I have on the au-
thority of the three respectable gentlemen whom I met here,
and a man named Nowlan, who saw old Connor taken out and
laid on the road. Nowlan himself lived a few perches from the
place, and showed me the ruins of a house that had the ap-
pearance of being at one period very comfortable. There was
my house, said he, looking on it with a sigh. I asked him, in
presence of the clergymen, what he was evicted for, and he
50
said he knew not the reason no more than I did. Did you owe
rent ? Not a penny ; I was always well able to pay. How
many acres had you ? Twenty- two. Well, how have you
lived since ? I had saved a trifle by industry, and by that,
and my day’s work, I have supported my family ever since,
but my means are almost gone now. The man departed from
us after this conversation, and we turned to proceed upon our
way. The people followed us to the road, and gave us their
blessing, as we bid a final and a melancholy farewell to the
“ Gerrardised ” village of Ballinlass.
I now conclude this series of papers. I have endeavoured
to afford a perfect transcript of facts as they impressed them-
selves upon me, and of incidents as they were presented to my
observation. I trust I have not, in this purpose, entirely
failed; but, on the contrary, that I shall have succeeded in
transferring to the public mind some portion of the feelings
which imbue my own. Should I attain this happy consumma-
tion of my wishes, the tenant-occupiers of the soil of Ireland
shall not long be subject to the wasting evils of extermination.
.
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